Onions Have Layers
by caffeinatedraindrop
Summary: In a world full of turmoil and constant battles, the kitchen gives some an illusion of peace. But when you cut into an onion, sometimes tears fall.
1. Chapter 1

Inspired by queenofowls, the champion of all that is Bydue! Please read her works. They're amazing!

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Dedue was no chef, by any means, but to work in the kitchen was like entering a whole other world.

In stark contrast to what lies beyond these four walls, it was here he could forget the current world events. The smell of blood and dirt replaced by the aroma of freshly cut vegetables. Swords and axes traded in place for knives and cleavers; the only flesh cut would be of an animal and not man. In lieu of cries and screams on the battlefield, the loud hiss of vegetable and meat on hot a metal pan.

It's in the kitchen that he worries only to provide a good meal rather than the survival of his friends.

Yes, during the unsteadiness of Fodlan, there is peace. If only for a moment.

"Dedue?" His name spoken breaks him from his reverie and turns to see Byleth entering through the kitchen door. "Professor." He greets her with a quick nod.

He watches her put away her sword before moving to wash her hands on the other side of the room. "I had thought that today I would be working with Ashe."

"Apologies." He isn't sure why he's apologizing. "Ashe is currently assisting Mercedes with another task." The tilt of her head is small, but he notices it. No doubt she is recalling the scheduled group assignments.

Dedue waits a moment, her head straightens, and he continues. "Today I was to be with Ingrid by the stables." Byleth grabs a cloth and wipes her hands, now turning to face him. There is no expression, yet he sees the question in her eyes. If that were the case, it should be Sylvain with her and not him.

"I took the liberty to offer Sylvain a change in responsibilities. He's complained often that he does not like kitchen duty. And I like cooking." He explains, a shrug of his shoulder. "But if this arrangement displeases you, I can retrieve Sylvain."

Byleth hums, as if considering.

"I see." There is no disappointment in the tone of her voice. But if he allowed his mind the imagination, she almost looked… pleased. But, he quickly reasons it would likely be because she did not want to deal with the red head's outlandish advances, as insincere as they might be. Yes, that made more sense than the thought that she could enjoy his presence… no one enjoys being in close proximity from a man from Duscur.

With nothing more to say, they wordlessly divide their tasks equally.

The silence is comfortable, the atmosphere tranquil. Working together… was nice. At least it was for him; he could not say the same for the professor.

Dedue chances a glance towards her. His hands still. There is a soft smile on her lips. It is small, barely noticeable, but a smile nonetheless.

He'd never seen it before. Dimitri had said it once to him. That he had seen their professor's smile and described it as "mesmerizing". And to bear witness to it, Dedue cannot help but agree with his highness.

Somewhere along the many months she was with them, she had become indispensable to him... _and _the Blue Lion house. People die and are replaced, that is the reality of their world. But to lose her… when had she become more than their professor? When did he begin to see her as something more? He'd had this thought before, back when he had tried to reprimand her for taking an arrow for Dimitri. Even now, he is uncertain of the whys and whens. (1)

Byleth is looking at him now. He hadn't realized he'd been staring for so long. Caught, he thought to apologize. Again, with the apologies. Apologize for staring at her? What reason would he give her?

He doesn't have to think. Her head tilt and quick glance at his chopping board forced his own gaze to follow. When had he stopped cutting?

He clears his throat and resumes chopping. Byleth does not. Instead, he could still feel her eyes watching him. Somehow, it feels hot on him.

Another glance, the smile is gone from her lips, but in its place, a twinkle in her eyes. He continues to busy himself until she eventually looks away and resume washing the vegetables.

Moments pass and a soft hum catches Dedue's attention.

He looks to his right. The professor is staring intently at the onion before her. Her gaze serious. He knows this look; when she is formulating a battle plan. Except her enemy seems to be… an onion?

He watches her as she lifts the knife and presses it against vegetable. But just as she's about to cut, she stops and tilts her head back.

"Is something the matter, professor?" He asks, wiping his hand on the apron, moving closer to her.

"I.." She begins, her shoulder slumping slightly. "I am not… good… with onions." She finally confesses. "They burn my eyes."

Ah.

Had it been anyone else, he would have offered to do it for them. But he knows her well enough; the professor would not have that.

"Allow me to assist you, professor." He moves to her left, just slightly behind her. He reaches in front of them, and turn the onion away. "When you cut onions, always start furthest away from you. This keeps the chemical irritants from reaching you quickly."

She does as she is instructed. She's slow at first, hesitant. After a time, her movement is more confident and she nods. He could almost see her relief. Before he can realize to stop himself, he leans over her shoulder, careful not to touch, his face is only a mere inch by hers. She stiffens, he pretends not to notice.

He takes in a deep breath, his chest just grazing her shoulder, then softly blows towards the onion. "Blowing air towards the onions helps dissipate the chemical irritants, keeping it away from your eyes."

She nods again and takes a shaky breath of her own to blow gently towards the onion. He does not move right away. Something keeps him there, close behind her.

There are no eyes to see them, no one to pass judgement. In the safety of these walls, he can stand close by her with no one to question why a man from Duscur would stand so close to this woman—and no one to ask her why she hasn't moved away.

As she finishes up with the onion and pushes it aside, she leans into him, her back flushed against his torso. He holds his breath. When was the last time anyone would stand so close to him, by choice?

It only lasts a moment before she moves away to start the fire. He watches her, grounded to the floor where she left him.

"If you are not opposed to this idea…" She says after a while, "I would not mind replacing Sylvain with you in regards to kitchen duty." He says nothing. She glances at him over the shoulder. "As you have mentioned, he has made complaints about his assigned task."

He opens his mouth to respond, but she interrupts him to quickly add on. "It would just make more sense if it were you. Or Ashe." She seemed to rush in including the young bowman. "Because I cannot afford for any of you to fall ill due to his… carelessness."

Dedue considers her words, considers _her._ He cannot help but feel his lips twitch into a small smile. It is not like her to say much outside of the classroom, to exude an air of uncertainty.

Is it the same for her, he wonders… that she, too, can enter the kitchen and be someone else outside of this war?

Dedue nods, though she cannot see it. "I would not mind that at all."

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Reference

(1) A One-Sided Affair by queenofowls


	2. Chapter 2

It's been two weeks now since Byleth had woken up. She's hardly slept since. Too afraid to sleep, she wanders the monastery grounds; mindful to avoid the cathedral.

It isn't the nightmares that she wants to avoid, though. But if not that, then what? What could be worse than having a nightmare? What could be worse than seeing monsters in your sleep?

Well...

It's dreaming of someone you care about... and waking up to remember that they are gone. Do you know how painful that is? To feel them in your arms again; to kiss them over and over again until you are satisfied; to tell them words what you wish you could have said... only to wake up and realize that you can never have that again. Do you know how cruel it is to be forced to relive their death every time you wake up?

Byleth knows—she knows these all too well.

How funny, she thinks bitterly, that while most wake up from nightmares, she wakes up into one.

The first few nights were the hardest. Alone with only guilt as her companion, her thoughts and grief assault her. Though she has scolded her students many times to refrain from such ways of thinking, she cannot help but wonder what would have happened if she'd just woken up earlier. As it turns out, when you grieve, you ask more question than you cannot possibly answer. The "what if" scenarios were the worst.

Even if she could not stop the war from happening, at least she could have been with them through it all. She was supposed to take care of them—protect them, but instead, they had suffered, they have lost, and now Dedue was…

Byleth finds herself at the kitchen most nights. Better to occupy her thoughts with simple tasks lest guilt claim her sanity like it has done her student. The least she could do was prepare the ingredients for the next day's meals.

Tonight was no different as she mindlessly begins to cut up the ingredients. But as she reaches into the basket for the next item, she pulls out an onion.

A hitch in her breath and a throb in her chest as the sudden memories in the kitchen flood her. If she closes her eyes, she could probably feel his heat on her back, hear him softly blowing beside her face. If she closes her eyes, maybe she could feel him standing beside her like he'd down so many times before.

Byleth does not and begins to cut the onions, just the way Dedue had taught her. And when she feels the prickling sensation in her eyes, she blames it on the onion. She takes in a breath but waivers, only producing soft and broken blows of air at what she believes to be the culprit. It's ineffective... her eyes sting and tears form.

Dedue was dead. He gave up his life for... _Dimitri_. The next slice of the onion is rough. Dimitri, the feral king. The knife comes down harder still, metal onto wood with a loud thump that echoes the empty kitchen.

Did she not tell him that it was useless to give up his life for Dimitri? That it was better to become his protector and not some sacrificial lamb?! How is he to save Dimitri now that he was gone? Goddess knows how she—he, _they_ need him more than ever. Didn't she teach him... that his life was just as important? Hadn't she expressed how much she valued him? Had she failed him in trying to convey that? Would it have made a difference to him if he knew how she... that is, everyone would feel at the knowledge of his death? (1)

Without Dedue, it is up to her to save the crazed man so lost in his quest for blood lust and revenge. It is her expected responsibility. But how could she? When she'd looked into his eye, she saw nothing of the Dimitri she remembered. Dedue had been the only one to look passed this darkness, but he was gone and Dimitri seemingly a lost cause.

"_He's dead. He died in my place."_

Byleth had seen Dedue die in the battle field before, multiple times and in so many ways; just as she'd seen with the others. But she'd _always_ managed to bring them back. And if she had just been awake and with them…

She cannot help the dark thoughts that come. Of the many ways she had seen Dedue die, which one had actually taken his life? Which of the scenarios—where he carelessly throws his life away to save Dimitri—had actually claimed his own? (2)

The feel of something wet on her face forces her back to her reality. When had her vision blurred? She lifts a hand to touch her face but pauses. The smell of onions on her fingers reminds her what she had been doing, the feel of its chemical irritant stinging her eyes more.

Another realization dawns on her. The meal she was cooking didn't call for onions. She knew that. So, then why? Why had she grabbed the onion?

Another tear falls. Her eyes widen, her hand trembles. She cannot be...

Byleth quickly runs towards a basin with water, flushing her eyes immediately. Once she is certain her eyes are clear, she stares at her sad, rippling reflection in the water. The only time she had cried was at the death of her father. She shakes her head and grabs a nearby cloth.

As she dries her face and hands, she returns back to the work bench to resume the meal preparations. She grabs the chopping board holding the onions, pauses a moment, then discards them into the trash.

It was the onions, she thinks as she grabs a carrot. There was no point in weeping for the dead. Her tears could not save Jeralt, and they certainly would not bring back Dedue.

It was just the onions, nothing else, she reasons again.

But if so, then... how would that account for the pain in her chest?

* * *

(1) An Instrument of Fate by queenofowls

(2) To Save a Shield by queenofowls


	3. Chapter 3

Like most nights at the monastery, Byleth stood alone in the kitchen. It's been an hour now and she hasn't touched the cabbage sitting in front of her; her mind too far away.

It's been a few days past since the battle at the Great Bridge and so much had happened. Dedue was back.

After they had won the battle, Byleth had almost been too afraid to look in his direction, in fear that—like many of her dreams—he would disappear. When the Blue Lion House flocked to greet him, she'd grabbed her broken wrist and squeezed tight, eliciting pain. The pain was real. This was real.

He was real.

Their eyes met only once, before she turned away to speak with Rodrigue and Gilbert.

That had been their only interaction since.

She grabbed the knife beside her and begun to cut into the leafy vegetable. Grabbing one produce after the other.

Byleth does not react when she hears the kitchen door open and close, does not turn to see who was washing their hands. And when her welcomed guest moves to stand beside her, chopping board and knife in hand, she can only smile softly to herself.

They cut in comfortable silence. Just like they'd done so many times before.

When Dedue had appeared at the battle, Byleth had no time to deal with the flurry of emotions that pierced her heart like an arrow. All she knew was he was back, their house complete once more. And all that mattered then and there was that she would make sure it stayed that way.

The emotions she'd suppressed since seeing him were beginning to surface. She had kept herself busy with preparations for the next battle, helping the wounded, anything and everything. And Dedue was expectedly by his king's side. But now, they were alone. Together.

Byleth reaches for the next item to cut and stops completely.

Of all the many produces she could have grabbed… it had to be a damn onion.

At her stall, Dedue turns his attention to her. Her head is bowed, her hands curled into fists in front of her. She begins to tremble and soon he is by her side. He says nothing and waits for her to respond.

Byleth forces a strained laugh then turns to face him. "Dedue…" She chokes, giving him a broken smile. "I… am not good with onions."

Dedue closes the remaining distance between them, his hand gently capturing her face with both hands, his lips on hers. She sobs against his mouth and he pulls away to look at her. Goddessm how much he'd missed her. But before he can react, her hands are on him, too. Grabbing his waist and shoulder, pulling at him, and forcing him into a bruising kiss.

She is desperate to convey to just how much she'd longed for him by pressing herself into him, desperate for her tongue to translate the words they cannot say out loud just yet.

When Dedue finally breaks the kiss, he plants one on her forehead before pulling away—only slightly—to look down at her.

He laughs. Byleth thinks it's beautiful. "I think I should cut the onions from now on..." He says with a soft smile, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. "…until forever."

She cannot stop the laugh that escapes her or the tear that falls. "Yes, I think you may be right." She stands on her toes, her lips brushing against his, "Until forever then."

In the quiet of the room, there are only walls to watch them, no person to judge. In the safety of the kitchen, they can be anyone they want to be, leaving their roles as soldiers fighting a war outside the door.

In the safety of the kitchen, they can simply be… two people in love.


End file.
